Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd, Four’s a Foursome

Part 1

*Ring ring ring*

"God damnit" I yell as the alarm clock kicks me out of my much-deserved slumber.

Having gone to sleep at three the night before, the lack of sleep had left visible bags under my eyes. Just another day. Jorge is supposed to fly out in an hour, which means we have to be at the airport in less than thirty minutes.

Crap.

The early dawn sun shines through my bedroom window, giving way to a spectacular water view. It's the view I still treasure the view that alleviates all stress like a spiritual safety cushion.

Side note: Research shows that medical patients who are exposed to a water feature, (i.e. lake, river, fountain) heal 30% quicker than those who are not. The reason behind this is not fully understood, but it has something to do with water being a calming element, and since most of our modern-day illnesses are caused by stress, anything that can allay this stress has wonderful effects on our health, both short and long term.

In the distance, hundreds of boats poise themselves on the surface of the water, moved only by the crisp Autumn breeze. I remember thinking to myself how great it would be if I could wake up at this time every day, to hear the birds chirping, to witness the sun rising, creating a halo effect on the bay ahead. Alas, it took another two years until I could master early morning starts.

***

I walk into the living room and witness Jorge in all of his hippo-like glory dreaming on the couch clearly ignoring the screaming alarm next to him. I approach the couch, put my hips in line with his face, and turn on some music, whilst simultaneously thrusting my pelvis back and forth.

A second later, he wakes up in terror, his pupils dilate, his arms cover his chest. It's the best display of Darwinian fight or flight I've ever seen. Needless to say, this is followed by a good minute of profanities as he curses my existence and wishes I was never born.

"Fuck you, Cooper. Fuck everything you stand for. Fuck all of your hopes, dreams and aspirations, fuck everything that you want to be. Fuck you!"

Tears of laughter roll down my face.

"We have 10 minutes dude," I say between the laughs.

Jorge leaps outta' bed, we get in the car and I narrowly avoid pedestrians all the way to the airport. We arrive in ten minutes, and just as efficient as our pick up, the drop off was flawless. In and out. Quick, and easy.

We bang the handshake and say our goodbyes.

Side note: One of the reasons why Jorge and I are such good friends is because we both share an unparalleled desire to be efficient. This desire typically manifests in the way we pick each other up at the airport, because you see, whereas others freak out over being too late, or freak out about being too early, we arrive just on time, every time. Smoothly, and swiftly we are in and outta' the airport, within the 10-minute bracket of free parking. No phone calls exchanged, no pouts of airport ambiguity, and no residual resentment leftover from a bad airport pick up.

If the airport was a bank and it was being robbed we would be assigned the role of getaway drivers, tasked with giving the world's criminal elite an easy escape from the authorities. Now, that's a job I'd like to have.

"Thanks, see you later bro"

"Later pal"

I speed away, the sounds of screeching tires - a token of our immaturity.

The next couple of hours go by rather swimmingly. It's 9:00 am, and far too early to be active. I creep back into bed and snooze for the next four hours.

*Ring ring ring*

God damnit, I thought I had turned that thing off. Oh, it's Tom.

"Hey pal, what's up?" I say between afternoon groans.

"Hey bud, I'm with Jesse, we're at the park near your place. Hang out?"

"Sweet, see you in a bit"

"Sweet"

I had heard Tom speak about Jesse before. Supposedly, he spent his days sleeping with attractive women, producing music, and making big bucks. I later found out that he produced a world-renowned track, effectively making Flume the artist who he is now - a world-renown DJ amongst the 18-25-year-old club hoppers.

But... Jesse was unassuming. He had the face of an eighteen-year-old and dressed in a pair of black levis with a white shirt. Behind him, stood his brand new BMW 330i - the high-end model of the BMW three series range.

"Hey mate," he said with a cheeky grin, "I've heard a lot about you" he extended out his hand whilst taking a sip from a bottle of Heineken. Tom had clearly told him about my past in business. Most likely my arrest.

"And you, my friend" I replied.

There was a certain nonchalance about Jesse that to this day, acts as his unique selling point. If he was a prostitute (of which there were considerations...), he would mark up his prices by dropping his shoulders, leaning back, and genuinely not giving a shit. On this note, I could sense that we would become good friends one day, and as sure as the sun will rise, that became the case. We had many a fun time, catching ourselves in a series of cocaine-fueled debacles. But that's another story.

We hang out, and all is fine until Jesse informs me that his mother was taken by cancer the day before. It's one of those moments when you know that whatever you say won't help and will probably sound inconsiderate. So, you just nod and say I'm sorry and wait for the subject to change.

After I learned about Jesse's business efforts, from that day on there wasn't a time when the three of us would be in a room, and the topic of business wouldn't come up. Specifically, finding new ethically challenged ways of making money.

"...did you hear about DropBox, just closing another round?"

"Yeah! See.. we need to do something like that!"

There would be a fair share of disagreements about what the 'next best idea' was. We had each attempted at launching probably a dozen companies beforehand, with concepts revolving around everything from spam tools to customized cereal creation, business intelligence and escorts etc. I'm sure this probably took time away from actually committing to the successful execution of a single business idea, but the brain can play magical tricks on you.. when it's trying to rationalize your laziness.

"No way dude! Business intelligence is where it's at. Check this out... "

"Ain't gonna' happen, let's get into the food delivery space"

We would continue talking for the next few hours until it was time for Tom and Jesse to leave. I believe at the end of the day, we came up with five new business ideas and pledged that we would try to get at least three of them running by next week. Standard ADHD business procedures.

Part 2

It was Eurovision night that night. You know.. the show where musicians, dancers, and entertainers from every European country compete against those from neighboring countries in the effort to prove to the world that they are more talented. Effectively a glorified global pissing contest, with voting privileges.

And the fact that we now live in a heavily globalized world, the voting is generally biased in the favor of the countries which have a lot of their citizens living nearby, but not in their home countries (you can't vote for your own country if you're in the said country when dialing).

But, I digress.. this isn't about my hatred of Eurovision, it's about the fact that the girls in our university group wanted to throw a house party dedicated to Eurovision with a set of custom curated drinking games.

So... essentially. Drunk private school girls. Drinking. House party. Drinking.

After Tom and Jesse left, I threw myself headfirst into a blazer, and a pair of chinos rolled up at the ankle for added effect. Then, and only then I jumped into my Mercedes and drove away under the impression that it would be a twenty-minute drive to Sydney's North Shore.

After several relatively serious navigational mishaps, I arrived, two hours later...

The house was constructed in typical North Shore fashion. Double garage, panoramic water view. Contemporary design, uniformed wealth. Identical to all the others nearby. As I approached the front door, I realized the party was already in full swing because every couple of seconds I could hear random applause, and the sounds of high pitched, intoxicated females... jesting joyfully. Music to my ears.

However, the drive had left me somewhat jittery, and at this time in my life, I had yet to discover the benefits of codeine and benzodiazepines as a treatment for anxiety. So, instead, I relied on smoking. A lot. As per usual, I sparked up a cigarette and took a few minutes to eavesdrop on the party, hoping to overhear something that I could turn into a witty response upon entering.

They say you don't get a second chance to make a first impression. That's why, I always liked having at least one, one-liner under my sleeve. Something, short and sweet, effective as an icebreaker.

To my dismay, there was nothing of such I could use. So, I walked in.. inconspicuously. Tiptoeing into the living room where everybody was sitting on the stupidly oversized couch in the center of the room. The Eurovision results were being announced, so the guests were silent.

"What's up, guys?" Cooper said that once I had gotten close enough.

Everybody freaked out.

"Ahh!, shit"

"Who was that?!"

"Jesus christ Cooper!" yelled Lizzie, the girl whose party it was.

"Did you have to walk in like a ghost?"

"Hey, miss... I didn't want to disrupt the celebrations" I replied, smirking.

Lizzie was an eighteen-year-old, bombshell. Brunette, not blonde. She, along with many of the girls in the room was on the college field hockey team which meant their bodies were impeccable. 5'7, she wore a tight dress with cleavage that revealed her voluptuous D cups. From the first day of university, we shared a certain... unexplainable, sexual tension and I just knew, that if she didn't have a boyfriend, we would have totally intertwined our naked bodies around each other by now. Funnily enough, this party apart from being dedicated to Eurovision was also a 'break up' party - a testament to the fact that teenage girls can find any excuse to drink, dance, and bitch about men. Lizzie had broken up with her boyfriend, who just like the four before, was called Nick.

"Cooper, help yourself," she said, commanded even whilst pointing to a large collection of alcohol sitting on the counter.

Maybe, this was an opportunity in disguise... My mind quickly ran through some fantasies, 'what if this entire party was just a ploy to get me into her house?' 'why else would she offer me drinks, she knows I'm an alcoholic after all!' 'maybe she just wants to take care of me... oh, maybe she has a daddy complex! ' maybe her dad is an alcoholic too. Joy!'

"Cooooooper, my maaan!" yelled stockbroker Blake, quickly snapping me out of my daze.

Stockbroker Blake was a good friend of mine, and probably the most successful of the group. He had been trading stocks, and gambling professionally for the last three years which meant he had $50k in his account, an incredibly good-looking girlfriend, and the most chiseled jaw line I've ever seen on a 19-year-old. He was of average build, however, 5'10 but just like me, he was a social bridge. In this case, he was my social bridge to attractive beach girls, and I was his bridge to business advice.

I poured myself three fingers of scotch and made the rounds saying hello to uni friends, and being introduced to some new folk too. One of whom being Michelle... Michelle was one of Lizzie's friends who I had heard about before but had never actually met. Michelle, a half Slovakian, half Australian model, came in at a height of 5'11, and couldn't have weighed any more than 120 pounds. She was even more beautiful than Lizzie, and less you could say... conservative as well. She wore tight denim shorts that ended a good 10 inches above her knees. Her ass, well... it could probably end wars. All she would have to do was refuse to show it to any man until all men stopped fighting. And just like that, the war would be over in a week, reminiscent of Lysistrata.

Side note: Lysistrata is a greek comedy, centered around one woman's plight to end the Peloponnesian War by withholding sex from all men until they cooperated.

The best thing about Michelle was that she was bisexual, and had the hots for Lizzie, going as far as trying to make out with her on earlier occasions in the effort of 'turning her'. Maybe tonight was her chance, I wondered.

We small talked for a couple of minutes, about how we knew different people at the party. She seemed nice enough, albeit a tad inebriated. I asked her if she wanted a smoke, she nodded her head and we stepped into the garden. I gave her a cigarette, "Thanks!" she said, and then I went a step further to light her up, making sure my hands gently came in contact with hers.

It was just then my friend, Rudolf decided to emerge out of the shadows.

"Hey buddddy, bro. It's been too long! Come here" he said in his Denmarkian accent and gave me a hug.

I liked Rudolf, he was always a genuine guy. We got along on the basis of our cultural roots being European. There is a certain bond that develops when two people find out they possess similarities in upbringing. Plus, in Western cultures Rudolf would be considered a 'jock', he played soccer at an incredibly high level, was athletically built, and had a head of hair that could have been divined by the gods. All in all, though, he was a nice guy who loved to drink. Today was no different. Denmark was winning Eurovision, and Rudolf took that to mean that it was a right of passage for him to ingest two bottles of Blake Daniels and a bottle of wine.

He was plastered. And he always did get a little... touchy when he was drunk. Couple that with the fact he hadn't been laid in nine months, and he was ready to pounce on anybody in the vicinity.

**

I didn't intend on staying the night, so in the interest of driving back, I limited my drinking. One beer should be outta' my system in exactly 90 minutes. This means I can drink three beers and be home asleep by 1:00 am.

Fast forward 90 minutes, and this quickly changed. So, I made the call home informing the family that I would be sleeping over, then I released myself from the grips of the bottle of wine that had been staring me down the entire night. That stupid Shiraz, thinking it could have one over on me. Please.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

All of a sudden it was 1:00 am, and there were only seven people left. Lizzie, Michelle, Rudolf, and myself. Along with some orbiters, you know the people who hang around a group but don't engage very much.

Thereafter, Michelle proposed we all get into the hot tub. Keep in mind, the hot tub was outside, and it was the middle of Winter. So, I was a little bit apprehensive about undressing. Rudolf thought nothing of it, and before Michelle could finish speaking he had already stripped down and dive-bombed into the tub. Next went in Michelle, her perfect body, glistened against the tub lights as she got it in. Now we were convinced, so Lizzie and I jumped in next, Lizzie bringing in a bottle of Tequila and a bottle of wine that would later be shared around.

We spent the next thirty minutes, making jokes and planning vacations over the summer until Michelle suggested we take off our clothes.

"So naked pa-"

Done. Rudolf was nude, his underwear floating in the water like a dead seagull.

Michelle giggled and took off her bikini. Oh my god. Her breasts were like perfectly proportionate bags of happiness. I played it cool.

"So.. it's that kind of party eh guys?" I joked.

"Yeah! Come on Cooper, take off your underwear. It feels amazing!" said Rudolf in an overly giddy fashion.

"Oh well, if you insist. Only for you bro"

"Yeaaah!"

Next came Lizzie. Nude. Then it quickly escalated to the girls removing their thongs. Lizzie, was marginally timider, covering her breasts 60% of the time. But... this soon passed and she was bearing all just like the rest of us.

I took a moment to capture a mental snapshot, light up a cigarette, and proceed to down half a bottle of wine.

"Let's play a game guys," Cooper suggested.

"What kind of game?" asked Michelle and Lizzie, knowing full well what I was going to say.

"Truth or dare"

"Okay, let's play"

Rudolf winked at me.

"Truth or dare?" asked Michelle, to which I replied conservatively, "Truth". There is an etiquette to making truth or dare sexual, and it starts with simple truths, then sexual truths, then regular dares, then moving to sexual 'never have I ever' and then, once everybody is fired up, to sexual dares...

As truth would have it, the conversation of Michelle having the hots for Lizzie comes up, and Rudolf proposes they make out. With some trepidation, but no tongue they do it. I could see a sparkle in Michelle's eyes after the kissing came to a halt. Perhaps, it was the moonlight, or perhaps it was because she finally succeeded. This fired her up more, and she put her arm around Lizzie, her wrist hanging casually near Lizzie's bosom.

"Okay.. your turn" they motioned to us.

"You have to kiss!"

"What.? No no no" we both yell back, momentarily glancing at each other to see where the other person stood on the matter.

"No way!"

"Mm.. fine. " they reply, "Predictable. All guys are the same, so insecure about their sexuality"

"Hey hey. Now, wait up here!" I come on the defensive.

"We are perfectly secure, right Rudolf?"

"Right!"

"It's just different for guys... girls kiss all the time"

"Right!" Rudolf nods approvingly.

The girls roll their eyes in unison as if to say, yeah, like we haven't heard that before..

"Okay", they go for a compromise.

"How about you kiss each other on the cheeks, and hold it, five seconds a cheek"

Before we had time to deny her request, Michelle comes out with, "And in exchange... we will stand up in the tub and make out, with tongue" Did she just say full wet nudity?

With the power of pussy, they had us in the palms of their hands. We couldn't say no.

"Mm.. fine"

"Okay, deal"

All of a sudden Rudolf had to pee, either that or he needed a moment to reevaluate his life decisions.

"Give me a minute guys, bathroom break".

He gets out of the tub, doesn't bother to clothe, and runs bare ass naked to the nearest bush to relieve himself. Once he realizes how cold it is, he scrunches over, covers his crotch, and waddles back to the tub.

"Okay, let's do it!" he exclaims while throwing his fists in the air.

Hilarity ensues.

So, just like that Rudolf and I give each other a series of pecks on the cheeks. Our alcohol-fueled, devastatingly low inhibitions make it acceptable.

The girls hold true to their side of the deal and do, in fact, get up naked and start making out.

At this point I think to myself, that silly game will soon be over, rules won't be abided by and something interesting will happen.

"Our turn," we say. "Now you need to stand up in the tub, and do more than just kissing, Michelle you need to grope Lizzie's breasts.. and more"

"Oh really?" the girls ask inquisitively. "But first, you and Rudolf have to stand up nude in the tub, and make out for ten seconds whilst holding each other's ass'.

We pause for a second. Has it really come to this? After a few minutes of serious contemplation, Rudolf and I agree that we won't discuss this ever again, and it was strictly because we were drunk and they are hot babes.

So, we reluctantly accept.

"Deal"

We stand up and place our hands over our winky bits. Rudolf leans first, "Yolo". Fucking YOLO hate that word. And we make out, thankfully no tongue, but keep in mind here we are two perfectly straight guys, in the nude, holding each other and kissing.

"That's it, that's it" we cut it off preemptively. Later on, I rationalized to myself, that if you close your eyes it's not THAT much different from kissing a good-looking girl.

And now the fun really starts. The girls get up, grab each other by the ass, then passionately make out for god knows how long. They fall back into the tub, and Michelle is running her tongue over Lizzie's gorgeous breasts. Slowly, sensually. I could tell their breathing rate was increasing, they were being honest. It was no longer about us, it was no longer about the game. Suddenly... Lizzie perches her legs upwards, and Michelle slowly descends into her pelvic region. Her tongue doing most of the work, circling it around Lizzie's clit. Moans of pleasure could be heard from both parties. And the finale being, Michelle began completely eating her out while Rudolf and I sit in silence. After all, how could we top that? Don't say it.

I'm content with the night's efforts, so I decide to get dressed and go back inside. Rudolf, clearly not satisfied until he tries to lure himself on to Lizzie, hoping to get laid. And a little forcefully to which Lizzie declines. Rudolf takes this as a sign to keep drinking and soon after we find him, hunched over naked throwing up into the toilet.

You know Eurovision isn't so bad after all.